


Homeward Bound

by Constellatius



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not really John Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 06:59:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3758773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Constellatius/pseuds/Constellatius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hunt had been a bad hunt and all Dean wants is to return home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homeward Bound

It had been a bad hunt. Bad in every sense of the word. They were unprepared and unequipped to deal with the monster. The monster was clever, hiding behind vampire clans as he stole away small children. They were too late to save the children. Dean killed the monster, blood splattering over his face as he drove an ancient stake through his chest. 

The drive back drained every part of him. He ached and he felt exhausted. Dean couldn't remember when he last had a good night sleep. Shadows seem to follow the impala, chasing her down and twisting around her sleek shell. She is bathed in a darkness, heavy and restless as Dean drives through the day. 

His motel bed was small and a persistent spring stuck in his back no matter how many times he flipped the mattress. The air conditioning barely worked and blew out more bug carcasses than anything else. The room was damp and smelt of a grandmothers house with a sinister secret. Dean slept with one eye open and his hand on an iron knife. 

Sam looks no better off. He has ugly bruising mottling the right side of his face and a possible broken arm. He sleeping fitfully in the back seat, dusty knitted blanket thrown over his giant frame. He groans softly, bruising cascading further down his body. Sam had teasingly muttered creepy when they brought the room. After a night spent there the teasing tone dropped. Sam lined the windows and doors with salt. 

A small sprig of Osha stashed in his bedside table next to a battered copy of the bible. 

The sign says 150 km to home. Dean wishes he had a pair of ruby red slippers to click together. With a flick of his wrist Dean turns the radio on. A soft rock melody plays gently through the speakers. Dean looks ahead and thinks of warmth and home. He counts the cars, 13 blue, 56 black, 24 silver, 2 red. He loses himself in a windshield of colours.

Dean hums tunelessly to the melody. He doesn't know the song, the words lost on him but the melody is familiar. Fog settles in as the daylight dips behind a broken fence and miles of neglected fields. Sam kicks the back of his seat, and at once it is almost like they are children again. Dean sees his dad sat up front. Stubble heavy on his cheeks and bag dragging down his eyes. John looks more like a ghost than a human. His smile is hollow and his movements mechanical. His hand lands on Dean's arm, icy and devoid of love. He scolds Dean for flicking bullet casings at Sam. 

John's eyes are white, his mouth pulled into a hard line. He drops Dean's arm, unblinking as the summer sun rises. 

Dean serves suddenly, a deer bolts in front of his car. She is only young, fawn spots covering her brown coat. She stands in the headlights, panting heavily. Dean watches as she bounds off, he back legs twisting through the undergrowth. 

Leaning forward Dean rests his head heavily on his crossed arms. He breathes deep feeling strangled by stagnate air. The fog closes in, wisps tickling the impala. She protests as Dean starts her up again, growing as he pushes her through the dark country lanes and towards home. 

Dean pulls into the garage, leaving Sam asleep in the back seat. His guns and knives dripping with blood in the trunk. Dean kicks off his mud stained boots, wiggling his toes against the cold unforgiving concrete. 

The sound of classical music drifts over his head and curls around his bare feet. Dean follows the sound, bathed in a soft glow. The smell of freshly cooked gumbo swirls around his senses, a sweet aftertaste follows. His tongue tingles as his stomach rumbles. 

Castiel sits on the sofa, robe falling softy over his shoulders. It slips down over his shoulders exposing tanned skin. Dean takes a deep breathe. He knows Cas knows he is here. He sees him shift, placing his book, dog eared and well loved onto the sofa. He spreads his a legs, bare under the robe. 

Dean straddles him, wrapping himself around Castiel. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't think words could describe how he feels at this moment. A sense of relief floods through him but the call of home is stronger in Cas's arms. 

He smells of over ripe apples and brown sugar. White flour ripples through his dark hair. Dean nuzzles his neck, lips powered with sugar and flour. He breathes deep, Cas invading his head. Dean raises his arms, wrapping them around Cas's neck. Warm lips press against his freckled skin as Dean clings limply to Castiel. 

Dean lazily mouths at Cas's neck, leaving half hearted hickeys over his warm skin. His pulse beats steadily through Dean, echoing in his chest. Dean sighs, aches and pains starting to slowly lift. He melts into Cas. Face pressed into his neck. Cas's fingers card through his hair, tugging gently on blond strands. Dean moans, eyes slipping shut. Sleeping wrapped completely in Cas.


End file.
